


Where Peace Begins

by AlluringMary



Series: Seed Family - Soulmate AUs [3]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous Gender Deputy | Judge (Far Cry), Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/F, F/M, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29928852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlluringMary/pseuds/AlluringMary
Summary: Soulmate AU where soulmates can talk to one another telepathically as long as they have not met yet. You happen to have the rotten luck of your soulmate's voice bring you immeasurable pain.Sometimes you wonder if he hears an echo, or your grunts and moans of pain when you try to answer him, or if he runs on faith alone.//There's a little fun fact you'd dug up one late night when you should have logically applied this time to completing assignments or picking up more shifts--there's just over fifty places named Hope in the world, and more than half of those are in America.And Hope County, Montana is the tenth one you've been to so far.
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/Faith Seed, Deputy | Judge/Joseph Seed, Faith Seed/Reader, Joseph Seed/Reader, implied
Series: Seed Family - Soulmate AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138463
Kudos: 6





	Where Peace Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't intend on writing some Faith/Dep in there, but she always sneaks in in my drafts.

Sometimes, when you strained yourself to make sense of the words, you could even sense the affection that resounded within them. Otherwise, the voice, your soulbond had always been pure gibberish--a painful cluster of syllables and broken fragments of phrases you'd been forced to numb.

Painfully slowly, once far from your parents' roof and doctor's orders, the words started to take proper shape.

_Hear me._ The voice while distorted bore an imploring edge, low and pitiful.

Fall's End is the approximation of a city and little else, a messy heap of bricks bisected by a road. At the mere sight of it, it'd managed to draw your pity, as much as it did previous passerby and tourists alike accustomed to city living.

_Come and see,_ the voice had said, plaintive but eager. _Come and see, and behold._

“Behold what”, you'd tried to respond, with the sharp tang of bile on your tongue and an unearthly pounding inside your skull. Whether it be your own failing at discipline or his inability to answer, only a word made it through the bond before you had to swallow down your medication and embrace the soothing silence.

_Hope._

There's a little fun fact you'd dug up one late night when you should have logically applied this time to completing assignments or picking up more shifts--there's just over fifty places named Hope in the world, and more than half of those are in America.

And Hope County, Montana is the tenth one you've been to so far.

//

The water's frigid, cold enough to numb the skin and deaden the muscles. It strikes your skin and cuts through your clothes, soaking into your shoes and muffling the sounds above the surface. It sweeps into your gaping mouth, prickling shards of ice stabbing into your gums and tongue. With a sharp quick twist around your neck, your head is snapped back above the water.

“--when you were called; one Lord, one faith--!” You strain against the grip around the nape of your neck to breath in as much as you can, only briefly catching sight of another man standing on the shore in the low light of the dusk. Held kneeling at his feet by the nuzzle of a gun, the others--

The woman who brackets you in between her legs applies more pressure to your neck. You fight vainly, but she's stronger and forces your head underwater again. You don't feel the cutting of your skin, amidst your squirming and thrashing--but you do feel the shape of the rocks along your cheek when the crazed bitch smashes it and drags your face into the river floor.

There are screams, distant echoes numbed by the water, of the other backpackers taken alongside you. They know she went too far, grew more violent than before. Your feet kick and wrists hurt when you try and break out of the cord tying them together. With only one hand, the woman guides you back over the waterline. The water laps at your chest. Brandished high above her head, the woman's Bible reigns above you both.

“Sinner, I baptize you in the name of the Father!”

That's when you feel it, a trail of warmth running down your cheek. The rocks on the river floor, she must have ground your face into a few sharp ones. Still the cut can't be that deep, you'd have felt it. You're lifted upwards but the blood keeps going while you shiver in the cold. It seeps into the clothes that cling to your body, Fat drops of water mingle with it, spreading it further along your chest, spreading it while the cut keeps bleeding--

Your knees crash on the rocky shore, the impact reverberating up your thighs. A haze tinges your vision, progressively you have to blink away the pain, only managing to cause further blood loss.

There's a shriek to your left, you see one of the women's muddy yellow hiking boots being dragged along the rocks, hear the chorus of opposition being silenced with the butt of a rifle. A tint of green clings to your vision, the strange fumes rolling off the water entrancing you. In between the cool air and your soaked clothes, you desperately cling to the feel of the blood rolling off your face, embracing the slight warmth it brings.

The pain comes quickly then, the torn skin and burst muscles along the side of your face flare up, no longer numbed by the cold or bizarre drugs you'd been doused with. The water grows turbulent with the renewed half-drowning, you hear it angrily lap at the rocky shore. Your blood is warm and metallic on your lips, you were wrong before about the severity of the cut--it keeps on coming.

The open wound of your face aches and burns--but the voice, is there. He's alarmed, you can hear his confusion in the garbled words, he must feel your lancing pain.

The green haze about closes in on you, white bursts of light appearing out of nowhere in your vision. His voice grows louder, writhing and clawing inside your skull, clamoring to be heard.

A hand tightens itself around your shoulder, tenacious like a hawk's talon, tugging at your clothes until they pull at your skin and you're forced onto your legs. The voice screams inside your head just as you grit your teeth in pain--the headache coupled with the drugs amplify everything beyond what you should be able to bear.

The searing burn of blood on your face trickles along your nose, paints your eyebrow and eyelid red with the movement. You can feel rather than hear the clicking of your teeth, feel it reverberated into your cheeks, feel the stretch of your shirt under your armpits as you're being led away.

And a drilling pain to the side of your head begins, like a stake being nailed into a post, pushing into your skin and shattering your skull. The pain from the tiny point tears gasps and whimpers alike from you while his voice whispers from the shadows--where are you--you make out--you're hurting, who's hurting you.

_Show me_ , he pleads but each words burn fiercer than any physical wounds, _Tell me._

Your feet drag on the rocks and on the dirt path, the man pulling you forward is muttering under his breath--a crack in your skull. Fingers prying at the opening He made, digging and wrenching it open. You wail, openly and brokenly under the powerful strain.

_Show me, show me, show me._ He encourages, searching, seeking. _Where are you? What is your name?_

Suddenly, so very suddenly--the white edge dragging you down cracks with the pain. Everything goes through your mind in a disorganized, clumsy heap. The strange green mist rolling over the water, the creak in the hotel's foundations, the half-crazed muttering of the cultists, the bartender's open disdain towards them, the water rushing into your mouth, your teeth clicking and gritting in the cold.

The voice, _So close, so close, my love_ you can understand it for the first time in years but so painful, so rushed.

You hear your name whispered against your cheek, timidly uttered by an ex, softly spoken in your hair by your mother, yelled over the sounds of the playground, snapped across a classroom, spit by someone you once called friend. Your name, tainted by that awful sound, resounding inside your head.

He says it then, reverent, religiously. He calls you, but the toll created by his voice grows deafening.

Fresh tears spring from your eyes, your soulmate urges for more details-- _I can almost see you_ \--where it was once controlled and coming from low in his throat, his voice is now tight and high with elation-- _I will send for you, no I will come to you, show me, show me more._

The man that once tugged so roughly at you abruptly stops in his tracks, the sudden stop jerks his flagging grip off your shoulder. Your cold, soaked clothes don't settle back properly, fitting oddly once stretched and misplaced.

The momentum the man set makes you stumble forward, faintly you can hear breathless gasps echoing your own from behind you--guttural cries, splashes of water. How long have you been crying, how long have you been gasping for air, how long until the blood stops, how long until his voice stops seeking and wrecking inside your head?

Figures tinted green approach, hands shrouded in rolling mist grasping at your wet clothes.

“No,” You say, defensive. “What--”

You twist away from the reaching hands, stopping cold in your attempts by the hot shock of a palm against your cheek. He slapped you, hard, hard enough for bursting pain to be torn from the gash in your head.

“Control yourself!” A voice hisses while you struggle to push words past your lips.

“I never--” A voice echoes, so far away. “I didn't me-- he cannot know.”

The hands settle on your skin, spots of warmth appearing all over your arms and shoulders. “This might hurt,” Comes a softer voice, meant to soothe before your temple starts to burn.

They're too close, smothering. You want to move away, fight your way out of their grip but your hands, tied still behind your back, ache and grow numb. Your neck and head feel heavier with the alcohol applied to the cuts on your face.

Hands push at your shoulders, the world turns and blurs. Only faint whispers echo in your ears, your feet drag against the rocks. The world darkens.

“No, no.” The voice hums, feminine... but reprimanding. “You'll get us in trouble... Stay still,” The voice soothes again, now guiding your wrists onto your lap. Your head rolls and your cheek meets the cool vinyl of a car seat.

You blink, batting away the green and white. Beyond the colors, the soft veil cast over your vision, you can see the strangers in white milling around the shore. The door is open, the seat belt undone. You could...

_Closer, can you feel me?_

Dull pain snakes back in, fingers burrowing inside your head.

A small, delicate chuckle brings your gaze to your right, you turn slowly, afraid you might skip another minute in time.

A woman... girl, with disarming eyes smiles. When she smiles, and takes your hands in hers, you feel the energy drain from you. Fear stirs inside your chest, your fingers twitch alongside her palm--a sudden, destabilizing feeling urges you to wrench away.

You can only manage a clumsy pull away, before the words tumble out of your mouth, “Why-- Why are you doing--”

“Hush now,” She reassures. The pain from his voice, the relief from hers pull at your heart. The fear bubbles, blossoms all over. “Don't you see? You're safe, now. He'll be here soon.”

A fond, affable expression pulls at her face. “He loves you.”

_Hear me._

You stifle a sob, eyes wet once more with his voice ripping into your mind. Her hands skim over your arms, closing over your cheeks while you shake, unsteady once more. A delicate, wraith-like weight push down on your thighs.

“I know it hurts,” She says, softly into your ear. “He's been waiting a long time.”

_See me._

Silence falls at last. A hush brought upon by the squealing noise of tires on loose gravel.

A breath holds inside your lungs, refusing to let out. The girl whispers something inside your ear, you can feel it--the slow of time, the quickening of your pulse, the drag of your unresponsive body. You will your head to turn away from her, to search for the cause of the noise--growing nearer and nearer.

The distant sound of lapping water, crushed gravel under a new weight. She giggles, drawing your focus, the steps sound louder. He's closer.

_I can feel you._

Your soul repeats those words, over and over, for what feels like a hundred time as he advances. The pain, all consuming, no longer held at bay by the mist. You begin to cry again, tears slipping down the side of your face. Unbearable, you want to scream.

A touch of his skin, a look into his eyes--it'll be over. There'll be no more pain brought on by his words, his pleas.

A shape, made of a soft, serene light bite at the corner of your eyes. A larger hand settles on your cheek, feeling the warmth left there. The woman's weight shifts, the blinding light leaving you to map out the movements with their touch.

“Love...” Your soul sounds choked, a watery edge lining his words. “I've been waiting for you.”

And the pain slinks back, leaving in its stead nothing but cool silence.


End file.
